Ups, Downs, and Everything in Between
by DefyingFate
Summary: After defeating the Mother, what was left but more bloodshed and death? The Warden-Commander made a choice, a choice that will follow him for the rest of his life.


_**A/N:**_ This is the first piece I've written in over two years. Never really expected to start writing again, lack of motivation and laziness and all, but this tidbit came to me during my playthrough of _Awakening_ and it hasn't left me alone since. This is partially inspired by the ending of Rambo: First Blood; quite random isn't it? Regardless, enjoy, and any comment/criticism is appreciated.

 **.ups, downs, and** _everything in between_

Zane Amell, the Warden-Commander, the Arl of Amaranthine, the Hero of Ferelden and many other nicknames he didn't care about, was tired. Tired and fed up with everything that had been thrown his way ever since he left the Tower.

A few hours prior, everything felt _right._. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he cut down the grotesque Mother and all the other blasted darkspawn that surrounded him and his companions. That was followed by the heavy burden being lift from his shoulders and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride flowing through him.

He was on top of the freakin' world. His ego soared to massive heights and grew as large as Denerim. He was bloody arrogant was what he was.

That was when everything went wrong.

As he, along with Nathaniel, Anders and Oghren, walked out of the Mother's lair victorious, an inkling nudge at the back of his mind told him something had happened. Something bad. On their trek up the dirt path to Vigil's Keep, that feeling began to gnaw at him. Bodies, of darkspawn and Wardens alike, littered the ground around them. The Warden-Commander felt panic encase his entire body. Without a word, he had raced through the entrance as the carnage began to unveil itself.

Fires ravaged the infrastructure, smoke billowing into the night sky. More bodies laid before him, and rubble scattered the ground as far as the eye can see. A familiar sight caught the corner of his eye. The horned Legionnaire helm that belonged to.. Sigrun.

No..

Murmured horrors reached his ears as his companions caught up to him.

"Sodding hell!" Oghren cursed behind him, seeing what caught his Commander's attention.

Sigrun laid amongst the rubble, droves of darkspawn all around her. In contrast with the destruction around her, Sigrun looked almost... peaceful. Her eyes were closed but her lips were curled into a small smile. She had died honorably.

"Commander! Thank the Maker you survived." Varel announced, coming to greet him.

"V-Varel. Vigil's Keep actually.. fell?" The Warden-Commander choked out.

"She stood strong for many days and nights, but we were outnumbered. In the end, we could barely hold on," Varel said, gravely.

"What of the rest of the Wardens? My friends?"

"Very few managed to survive, Commander. We're worst off than we've ever been before. As for the Wardens you recruited... I'm sorry, Commander. They fought valiantly, but it was too much. They're gone."

* * *

Zane collapsed to his knees, body trembling and tears stinging at his eyes.

The pain set in. His whole body ached, his Dragonscale armor not helping one bit in that regard. Adrenaline had gone from his body quite a while ago and now the fatigue was settling in. He didn't care. Zane couldn't _bring_ himself to care anymore. He sat against a wall, one of the walls still standing from the battle. Gripped in his hand was a bottle of whiskey.

He was just following what Oghren's basic instinct was when it became too much. Just drink your troubles away...

The Warden-Commander's messy black hair was matted with sweat, his ocean blue eyes dull and lifeless as he gazed at the workers beginning to clear the place up.

Sobs reached his ears. Some muted, some loud and wailing. The families had arrived soon after he returned. They mourned their fallen loved ones, grasping at their bodies, praying to the Maker that one or two would just open their eyes.

It went unanswered.

Wardens had families too.

They weren't all like him, with life only give them one purpose. Some had wives, some had children, all were someone's brother or sisters and sons or daughters. Zane couldn't relate, being sent to the Tower at an early age. His magic had emerged, shock and horror had turned to disgust and scorn and off he went.

He, like all other mages had dreamed of being free from the Tower one day. To travel and see the outside world. He remembered threatening First Enchanter Irving many times when he was in a foul mood that he was going to escape the confines of the Tower and live a grand life.

This wasn't what he planned. Not this. Not death and sorrows. Not bloodshed and agony.

He was a fool. An arrogant fool. After stopping the Blight and slaying the Archdemon, he had thought the little uprising wouldn't be a problem at all. The Warden-Commander thought that when he returned, Vigil's Keep would still be standing, and he would be hailed as a hero once again.

A stupid mistake. He had had too much faith in his skills as an Arcane Warrior and commander. After escaping the Blight with his squadron all in one piece, what was this but a small skirmish?

Zane felt the crushing guilt take hold of him.

Expletives followed from the more rowdier families. The cogs running in their mind, they were blaming the Wardens for the deaths of their loved ones.

One man had lashed out at a surviving Warden apologizing for their loss. Why couldn't he save their son/daughter/sibling? Why did it have to be them? Why couldn't he have died instead? The man looked around at the carnage and spotted the Warden-Commander. Rage filled his face.

"It's your fault! All of this is your bloody fault! My son was your responsibility!" he shouted, spittle flying from his lips.

"Yeah! Some great hero you are! Where the 'ell were ya? Where were ya when our baby was gettin' slaughtered?!" Another woman shouted.

"I never wanted him to be a Grey Warden. But he looked up to you. The hero that stopped the Blight. He worshiped you. He wanted to be just like you. Now he's dead! Now he's dead because he ran and off and tried to follow in your footsteps!" Came another shout.

More and more followed. One angrier than the last and all directed at the Warden-Commander. The families grew restless, sorrow and rage fueling them. The shouting blended together incomprehensible cacophony.

Zane felt his blood boil. He gritted his teeth together trying to block out the noise all together. His fists clenched harder and harder until small trails of blood dripped from his palm. A throbbing headache was starting to set in.

It was too much. It was too... fucking... much.

"Shut up! Shut up! _SHUT UP!_ Do you think I wanted this? This wasn't supposed to happen. This was never supposed to have happened! Vigil's Keep was supposed to hold damn you! I never wanted more death, more sorrow, more anger, more.. _this_! I have enough blood on my hands, more than enough that I will never have a good night's sleep again.

But I made a choice... I made a fucking choice. Amaranthine was being attacked! Innocent, defenseless people being slaughtered left and right! My job isn't to protect the Wardens, my job is to protect those that can't protect themselves. Your sons and daughters knew what they were getting into! Ridding this earth of darkspawn. Making this world a better place. I can't protect them. I can't protect them with the Blight and now this.. I can't be everywhere at once! I can't! I just.. _can't_!"

The Warden-Commander grabbed at his hair, his eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down his face. He felt someone, Nathaniel, pulling him to his feet and away from the still stunned crowd, into what was left of the Keep.

Once inside, Zane paced the floor, head bowed with more tears stinging at his eyes. The ever encompassing guilt was still clawing at him, his thoughts a whirlpool of emotion.

Nathaniel Howe had never seen his Commander like this. The usually snarky and fearless warrior, now losing all control.

"Commander, you know those people don't mean it. They're grieving, just like I was when you found me. You can't let them get to you," Nathaniel hesitantly spoke up.

"Who are they to judge me? Who are they, when they know nothing of the hell I've been through! I didn't leave the Tower for this. I didn't want to be a Grey Warden, but I was forced into it. Just like I was forced into this bloody war! They don't know the sacrifices I've made just so they can see another day. Do you know that every time I shut my eyes, every time I even try to sleep.. I see countless of people staring at me? Accusing me. Saying that I killed them. Saying that I failed them. Saying that I'm.. I'm some sort of _monster_.

I didn't fight for this. I didn't fight this war so I can have rubbish thrown at me and yelling at me like everything is my _bloody fault_!" The Warden-Commander snarled before his legs let out and he fell to his knees. He trembled, sobs began to wrack his body.

Nathaniel didn't know what to say. What could he say? There were no words to make him feel better. Nothing to alleviate the guilt. It was always going to be there, no matter what. Nathaniel knelt besides his commander, and placed a hand on his back. No more words passed between them.

* * *

Zane woke in the middle of the night, heart beating a mile an hour. The nightmares plagued him again, just like it did every night. He shut his eyes, attempting to control his breathing and stop his hands from shaking. A moment later, ocean blue eyes opened surveying his room at the Keep. Just like the Keep, his room had seen better days. It was in shambles but still inhabitable.

The Keep was silent save for murmurings through the halls. The workers had packed up for the nights, and the families left for home. He could hear a female voice, Felsi he thought, how happy she was that Oghren was okay. Oghren returned the sentiment boasting about himself, ruining the moment, and sending the couple into friendly banter.

The Warden-Commander smiled softly, slightly envious of their relationship. Zane looked to his left hand and twisted the ring on his middle finger.

Morrigan's ring.

The Witch of the Wilds, with her exotic beauty, intelligently witty snark, and bleak outlook on the world that had captured his attention the moment he laid eyes on her.

The Witch that stole his heart and now carried his child.

The Witch that left him soon after the battle with the Archdemon. She was ruthless and at times unpleasant, playing with his feelings and abandoning him. The Warden-Commander felt that he should be angry at her.. but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Truth was, he missed her. And the truth was, he would do anything to hear her smooth melodic voice again.

He had spent so long fighting. He spent so long thinking of other people and their wants, and their needs. Spilling blood and watching futilely as the threat of darkspawn remained.

For once, he wanted to be selfish. He was tired... so tired and for once, he wanted to do what he wanted.

The Warden-Commander stood, and without even a glance, left the Keep and disappeared into the night. He wouldn't be coming back to Vigil's Keep.

He would find Morrigan, whether she liked it or not.


End file.
